The Silent Planet: A Space Opera (Cosmic Cyclone Series, Book 1)

by G. H. Holmes

  Everything was covered with dust.

  Shanti blew on the magazines on the counter. A gray cloud rose.

  Vesantha turned away and covered her tray with her hand. "Hey! What do you think you're doing? You're ruining my food."

  "I'm sorry, Ves," Shanti said. Her own tray was already empty.

  "Why didn't you wipe it off?" Vesantha said.

  Shanti didn't answer. With her index finger she searched for the date printed on the topmost magazine. When she'd found it, she stared thoughtfully into the air.

  "This magazine's seven years old," she informed her friend.

  "You should go tell the general," Vesantha replied, still miffed.

  "You think he's hot?" Shanti asked.

  Ves raised an eyebrow and glowered at her. "Now, where's that coming from?"

  "Hey, I asked you something."

  "Harrow?" Vesantha said. "He creeps me out."

  "But you think he's hot." Shanti wandered back to the door, where she looked out and caught a glimpse of the general in his car.

  Ves took a moment to reply. "I guess," she said noncommittally and followed.

  Shanti suddenly made a face. She was listening intently. "Do you hear that too?"

  The Marines were still chewing and swigging from their bottles—when they suddenly heard the echo of marching boots afar off.

  Their eyes flew to the tunnel at the end of the terminal, from where it came.

  The thump of boots got louder. All talk died down and everybody stopped what he or she was doing.

  General Harrow stood in his vehicle. "Activate all shields and take cover!" he shouted.

  The soldiers tossed their trays. Their plastic bottles fell away as they got up, swung their rifles off their backs and hurried to get out of sight.

  Ben turned to his exec. "I thought our engineers secured that tunnel."

  "They did, Sir," LeBlanc replied. "They set up a Xylon on its far end."

  "Then somebody breached it," Ben remarked. But how could they have done that noiselessly? Overcoming a defined Xylon energy shield was not the province of marching infantry. No shot, no grenade, nothing less than a full-blown bomb would take care of it and nobody aboard a fragile space station would deploy one of those—unless they had a death wish.

  The synchronous thunder of boots marching was coming closer still.

  Ben and LeBlanc jumped from the vehicle and disappeared behind it. Ben yearned for the freedom to act, to shift into a cloud. But he had people with him, human beings who were so easy to upset, so he couldn't. He had promised them to be one of them for the duration of this mission and he was bound by his word.

  It would mean hardship for them.

  Meanwhile, the troops were scrambling. Hard cover was difficult to find and in most cases concealment had to do. The Marines did their best to disappear, but they were too many. Ben yelled for the remaining squads to space out, get into wedge formation and to go prone.

  In the meantime, the stomping boots made the tube to echo. The echo faded when they left the darkness of the tunnel and entered the terminal.

  "Where are they?" a private shouted—because everybody could hear the sound of them marching…

  …but there was nobody.

  The troops even heard voices speak in a language they didn't understand. It wasn't Common Tongue, though the voices sounded as human as their own. They didn't even sound particularly nervous as one might expect of soldiers marching into battle. The Marines lying prone heard the invisible troops march right over them, but they didn't see a soul.

  "What is this?" a sergeant up on his elbows yelled. His ears told him that the new arrivals were walking right over his head, but his eyes denied the fact.

  "Does the General have any idea what's going on?" LeBlanc behind the FAV asked his boss.

  Ben was peering over the hood. He didn't answer.

  "We hear them, but we don't see them," Corporal Shanti Kumar said. She and Vesantha crouched by the entrance of the bookstore, stun-guns in hand.

  "Smart girl," Ves replied.

  "What do you think this is?" Shanti asked.

  When Ves didn't reply, she said, "You think they're made of dark matter or something?"

  Vesantha was eyeing the spot where the invisible troops were still stomping their boots. They weren't progressing any further. They were just marching in place right now.

  "Fine with me," Vesantha said, "as long as their bullets are dark matter, too, and don't hurt me none."

  Captain Joel Anderson wasn't sure what to make of this, either. So far the Invisibles had breached the energy shield at the far end of the tunnel and were able to enter the terminal, even though the engineers had secured it with two additional Xylons—and their two backups. Nothing was supposed to be able to penetrate those.

  What force was at work here?

  Joel wondered if they weren't falling victim to an acoustic illusion.

  Covered by a pillar, he peeked out and let his gaze roam over his Marines. They were behaving well. Their tension was palpable, but none of them behaved irrationally. Of course, everybody stared at the center of the terminal, where the boots of the Invisibles were still marching in place. But everybody was calm, trying to figure out what was going on.

  Suddenly all marching stopped.

  In the ensuing silence the commander of the Invisibles shouted, "Charge!"

  The unseen ones began to scream like Indians on the warpath and began to scatter.

  The Marines heard them pound the floor as they ran past them. Bewildered, they looked at the spots where their enemies should have been, but weren't. Within seconds the Invisibles were all over the terminal. They entered the stores, where the troops in hiding heard them breathe as they rushed by. The Marines went bug-eyed.

  Ghosts!

  Ghosts were walking among them.

  When Shanti Kumar heard boots run up and stop right in front of her, she dropped to one knee. When she heard how a hard-breathing somebody retracted the bolt of his invisible rifle, she screamed "Bullets!" She pressed the stock of her rifle to her shoulder and fired at the invisible person in front of her.

  A powerful charge rushed from the muzzle of her gun across the terminal and danced on the wall.

  The word Bullets! shocked everybody. Because bullets weren't meant to stun. Their mission was to kill. There was nothing humane about a zipping bullet.

  Bullets and the guns that fired them had fallen out of fashion a long time ago, giving way to energy weapons, which could be calibrated and fine-tuned to fit just about any contingency. Consequently, weapons that fired bullets were universally feared and loathed by any member of the Human Union military, because their results were so final.

  When they heard the dreaded word, many Marines began to fire their weapons at their imaginary foes, too. Within seconds the terminal crackled with the discharge of small arms infantry weapons. The air began to smell of electrocution.

  When the first Marines screamed and went down, hit by stunner fire, pandemonium broke out.

  The Invisibles were still running about, which didn't help matters, but spurred on the nervousness of the already overreacting troops.

  General Ben Harrow's face was beet red. He saw that his Marines were successful only in eliminating one another. The only good thing he noticed was that those firing indiscriminately were mostly younger troops. The higher ranks kept a cool head for the most part and didn't shoot, but kept their eyes out for any invisible threats that might cross over and manifest in their world at any moment.

  When the buzzing didn't let up, Ben got up and stood on the hood of his FAV.

  "Cease fire!" he shouted and his voice filled the terminal. "Stop this foolishness!"

  The troops rolling on the floor and firing indiscriminately saw their commanding officer fully exposed standing on his FAV. When they realized that he didn't get hit by any bullets, they stopped immediately.

  As if to mock the general's words, a salvo of machine gun fire ripped thro
ugh the terminal and everybody, including Ben, dove for cover.

  As soon as he'd hit the ground, Ben got up again. Seeking cover had been a reflex.

  More stun-buzzes rang out and some of the troops began to squeal as if they'd got hit by bullets, but Ben didn't believe it.

  He jumped back onto the FAV's hood and boomed, "None of this attack's real! So get a grip and get up and dust yourselves off!"

  The troops around the hall stared at him bewildered.

  When nobody moved, Ben yelled, "Anybody wounded?"

  Of course, many lay curled up like embryos, because they'd been hit by their buddies' stun-fire. But there was no blood.

  In the back a feeble arm was lifted.

  "Are you bleeding, Private?" Ben thundered.

  "N-no, Sir. But I think—"

  "If you're not bleeding, you're not wounded, Private!" Ben said. "Get up!"

  "My elbow, Sir," the private said. "I think my elbows out of place."

  Ben put both hands to his hips and heaved a sigh. "Medic!" he shouted. "Go and check his arm! Check the others who are down, too."

  Suddenly the invisibles stopped their running and began to laugh.

  A cold shiver ran down Joel Anderson's spine. This was either one superbly programmed defense routine, or the enemy was really invisible.

  But so far the enemy hadn't harmed anybody.

  "Into formation!" the gravelly voice of the invisible commander shouted.

  The now familiar sound of running boots was heard around the hall as the Invisibles ran towards the center.

  "Everybody ready?" the invisible leader yelled.

  "Sir! Yes, Sir!" came the many-voiced answer.

  "Then let's march," the commander said. "A song, two, three!"

  Heavy boots began to march in place and an unhurried voice began to chant, "I want to be a recon ranger!"

  The invisible troops repeated the line and began to stomp down the terminal. Their work seemed done here.

  "I want to live a life of danger," the chorister chanted and the troops echoed him.

  "I want to go to a foreign land…"

  By now the invisible soldiers were approaching the entrance of the tunnel that led to the rest of the station. They passed through the green-glowing Xylon shields as if they didn't exist.

  "I want to fight them hand to hand…!"

  The Invisibles marched into the dark mouth of the tunnel, where they kept singing until the Marines could hardly hear them anymore, because they were gone so far.

  Ben, who sat in his FAV once again, was stunned. The marching song the Invisibles had sung was an age-old ditty from the twentieth century. He himself had marched to those same words more than three-hundred-sixty years ago. And those troops had sung it in old English, not in the Common Tongue spoken throughout the Human Union. Ben doubted that anybody else had understood what they'd been chanting. He shivered.

  Was somebody sending him a message?

  If this was the work of an artificial intelligence, then they were dealing with deep AI of the kind the world had never seen before.

  And they hadn't even left the terminal yet!

  Ben turned to his exec and said, "Mr. LeBlanc, get our company back into shape and inform Berlin and Chaos of this incident. There's no doubt in my mind that they'll meet something similar."

  "What conclusion does the General want to convey?"

  "They'll draw their own conclusions, just like our troops have done, of course. We won't be able to help that. However, tell Captain Wakka and Captain Gruzka to ignore any Invisibles that are coming after them."

  "Easier said than done," LeBlanc remarked.

  "Fighting them, they'll only be wasting their time—and ammo."

  "You're right of course, Sir," the colonel said, his voice clipped.

  "As for us, we'll follow the Invisibles," Ben said. "Wherever they're going, they are trying to scare us away from that precise spot. Wouldn't you say, Colonel?"

  LeBlanc swallowed hard. "As the General says."

  "I'll take the ones that can still walk with me," Ben said. "You take care of the rest."

  Chapter 13

  Pere Gruzka got word of Aleph Company's troubles right when he was finally ready to disembark T3. His engineers had just finished de-mining the narrow corridor and concourse that lay behind the gate, and now only a hundred meters of vitrum tubes and duranium walkways separated him from the Armory.

  Gruzka reflected for a moment and then decided not to give his platoon leaders any details about what was going on near the station's center. If his troops heard that the general's very own company had frazzled itself because invisibles had attacked them, Chaos Company might no longer desire to disembark. Gruzka wasn't going to have any of that. He had a job and that was to secure that Armory right up front. By God, he'd make it there. And without his troops frazzling one another.

  "General says time is of the essence," he told his lieutenants behind him. "He says not to get excited about any sound effects."

  "Beg pardon, Sir?" a young lieutenant said.

  "If you hear something like marching boots or old-fashioned machinegun fire: the General says, that's nothing."

  "Nothing?" the lieutenant wondered.

  "Sound effects, like I said."

  "You mean to say that'll be just sound? No fury?"

  "Now you got it," Gruzka said with a nod.

  The leader of Chaos Company looked down the hall. There was dust everywhere. The place would have been gloomy without it, but the dust in the air made their landing zone look like a doomed universe full of decay. The swirling particles looked like pale planets and feeble suns.

  Out of the gloom the lieutenant of the engineers appeared. "Perimeter's set up, Sir."

  "Your take?"

  "This station seems to be as empty as my wallet."

  "We're moving on," Gruzka said.

  The lieutenant's brows went up. "All of us?"

  "First and Heavy Weapons"—who presently didn't carry any heavy weapons, but were to man the station's artillery pieces, should the need arise—"are coming. We're securing the Armory as is our mission. The girls platoon guards the perimeter here and Third moves our equipment off this transport. Engineers take the lead."

  The lieutenants around him nodded. "Sounds like a plan, Sir."

  "Get busy then," Gruzka said.

  The officers scattered to inform their troops.

  Standing alone by the gate to the hall that was their landing zone, Gruzka strained his ears, listening for marching boots. But there were none.

  Soldiers streamed past him as the individual platoons formed up and performed the tasks that he had set before them. Gruzka waited until their supplies were off-board and watched the gate close. There was a hiss and a shudder when T3 disconnected from the station and backed away.

  Gruzka looked at the fast attack vehicle parked in front of the shimmering Xylon shield at the far end. Two other FAVs were lined up behind it.

  "Let's go!" he shouted.

  He bounded to the third FAV while watching the engineers jump into the first two. Gruzka sat down in his car. A brief look over his shoulder showed that First and Heavy Weapons were in marching formation.

  Up ahead, a female private switched the Xylon shield off. Its green sheen disappeared and its hum stopped.

  As soon as the shield was out of the way, the first FAV with six engineers in it drove off into the dark mouth of the tunnel that led into the maze of Kasa Station's tubes and ultimately to the Armory. The second car followed and then the staff sergeant behind the wheel in Gruzka's vehicle stepped on the pedal and followed the others.

  The Marines behind them ran after them and disappeared in the darkness that had swallowed their leader.

  As soon as they were gone, the private reactivated the Xylon and when its hum filled the air and its sheen covered the tunnel entrance, she stood straight and breathed a sigh of relief.

  As soon as this dust had settled, she was going to grab a bite.
She was still wobbly on her legs from that wicked travel on the pylon road and a good bowl of soup was surely going to do wonders for her recuperation.

  The big rubber tires of Chaos Company's cars cut through the centimeter-high dust. Equipped with electric motors, the cars moved soundlessly. Other than the rattle of the tires and the boots of the troops behind them, there was no noise.

  They drove through the dark ducts and suddenly hit a vitrum tube through which the harsh light of the sun came in. When the first FAV plowed through it, the air was filled with swirling dust and became almost opaque.

  When he saw it, Gruzka pulled in his short neck and covered his nose and mouth with his blouse.

  The Marines behind them were coughing. They slowed down, because they could hardly see and had a hard time breathing.

  This dust…

  How could it be that there was so much of the stuff? Where did it all come from?

  Gruzka thought about telling them to stop and catch their breath, but he reminded himself that the Armory was mere meters away. As far as he knew, they were driving straight at it.

  The sunlit vitrum tube with its swirling universe of dust disappeared when his FAV flew into the darkness of the tunnel at its end. Inside, they passed empty guard stations and elevator plazas and ran into deeper darkness.

  Suddenly brake lights flared up front. His driver stepped on the brakes and made the FAV to skid. Gruzka braced himself in order not to be thrown from the vehicle. When it had come to a halt, he jumped out.

  "What is it, guys?" he barked.

  The engineer turned around and Gruzka saw his eyes glow in the twilight.

  "Door's closed, Sir." he said.

  Pere Gruzka looked at the ground. He loved guns, the bigger the better. More to the point, he loved the explosions that guns produced. As a matter of fact, he'd chided himself many times for joining the infantry instead of hooking up with the artillery. Pere Gruzka loved the flash and bang of explosives. But the favored tool of his trade was a no-no on this mission. Space stations were delicate environments and not at all suited for old-fashioned breaching.